By The Rivers Of Babylon
by Snowbeamer9
Summary: An assassination attempt wounds Bartimaeus; Ptolemy sends him back to the Other Place. But a surprise not necessarily pleasant awaits him when he gets back: is Ptolemy in love? But is the girl true to her heart, or another murderer after Ptolemy's neck?


**Note: The **_**Bartimaeus Trilogy**_** and its characters are owned by Jonathan Stroud.** I own the OC characters [soon to come!], the plot, and maybe some of the settings in this 'fic.

The title doesn't have much to do with the story; I just suck at making them. Feel free to replace "Babylon" by "Nile" or "Egypt".

The story takes place at around the time Ptolemy's cousin got jealous and wanted to kill him (maybe a little earlier, since Bartimaeus needs a chunk of time to recover in the Other Place). Also, I hope I got most of the dates and Egyptian facts right, especially in the footnotes. Gotta love 'em. :D

Without further ado, enjoy!

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**PROLOGUE  
**_Alexandria, 126 B.C._

Picture the scene: an Egyptian marketplace at night. Though the regular daytime customers had gone, the place was filled with nightly clients and shadowy visitors engaged in illicit trade. The merchants that still remained had put aside their smiles and new faces emerged: those involved in clandestine evil. Nestled in the center of a ring of hills, the Black Market was alive with movement. A group of burly men stomped their way over whoever dared cross their paths, sending more covert traders diving to the side like small fish in a vicious torrent. Like slick slimy snakes, they slipped up to the stall of choice and through whispered conversations retained desired goods. There were a few altercations in a while over the price, but nothing physical, nothing loud, and certainly nothing that attracted attention.

Little did they know that their every movement was being watched.

High above, a vicious predator of the night prowled the night skies, intelligent red eyes scanning the scene below, ears pricked for movement above. It was invisible to any eye, unheard by any ears, unnoticed by anyone. It flapped its mighty black wings and uttered a piercing war cry—

"Shuddup, Bartimaeus, you'll attract attention."

I scowled and was about to fold my wings indignantly when I remembered the deathly fall that would await me. "It's not like anyone can hear me."

"Still." My partner Penrenutet, a burly djinni of lesser years than myself, circled overhead as a large golden eagle. "And what's up with that disguise anyway? Very threatening, a _fruit bat_." The eagle clacked its beaks, presumably in mocking laughter.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're supposed to be on a _covert_ mission here." The small bat bared its tiny teeth.

"Ha-ha! Whatcha gonna do, pick my teeth with those toothpicks of yours?"

I eyed my partner in distaste. Out of all the demons that served Ptolemy, Penrenutet—or, as I preferred to call him, _Penny_—was my least favorite. A mere 1,800 years on Earth had taught him to be a snooty little prick that acted way haughtier than he should be allowed. So, being the elder and more experienced of the two, I decided not to argue with him and put myself on _his_ level. The small bat soared forward indignantly, its wings stretched out their full six inches, snout in the air, body gracefully arched.

"'Ey, listen, I can help. I've got remedies to cure constipation …" The eagle burst into cackles that dissipated a nearby horde of mosquitoes.

That was it.

"Listen up, small-timer." The bat drew itself up as tall as it could get and puffed out its chest in what was supposed to be a menacing way. "Of the two of us, we'll have to say that I'm the more experienced. Have you single-handedly warded off a whole army of utukku with just stones and wit? Have you participated in the construction of the Great Sphinx of Giza _and_ the Great Pyramid of Giza?**1** No?"**2** The bat fluffed its chest furs. "I am Ptolemy's most trusted servant, and it's because of this that he's kept me on Earth for just a tad long. My essence is starting to ache. Besides, just because I appear smaller doesn't mean I'm weaker. It's called tactics, you harebrained pile of feathers. For example, if we were to get attacked right now, you'd have a greater chance of getting hit than—"

Penrenutet's right wing exploded in a bright beam of color. The eagle blinked once in surprise, glanced at its missing right limb, and then fainted.

I acted fast.

The small bat shot up towards his injured comrade in a streak of dark brown fur and dug its small talons into the eagle's neck, saving it from the deadly fall that awaited it. It flapped its wings desperately, but to no avail; like a giant, grotesque rock, bat and bird plummeted toward the ground.

"Penrenutet! Move!" I groaned, swerving left as a Detonation missed us by inches. We were still plunging, and I was spinning more out of control by every second. My comrade was busy fainting, his eyes rolling in his head, his great beak hanging open.**3**

As another Detonation grazed past my left wing, I made a choice. For a second, the bat morphed into a monkey, which pushed off the unconscious eagle with its hind legs, sending it crashing into nearby bushes. The monkey spun elegantly in midair for a split second, and then the tiny bat was back, flapping its wings to gain height. I spared half a second to make sure Penrenutet was all right,**4** and then dove into the battle headfirst.

I spotted my attacker: a small, slight man donned in black.**5** I sent a couple of Detonations his way, only to have them consumed by Fluxes. The man saw me, and ran for his life.

I flew after in hot pursuit, now an elegant peregrine falcon (fastest in the world), now and then sending a couple of Detonations and Infernos at the target. I couldn't help but admire the skill with which he negotiated the streets, flitting through various stalls and darting behind throngs of people in hopes that I would lose him.

We were now beyond the Black Market. My attacker had, in all desperation, led us to a river, whose banks he now leapt along with incredible speed. He was getting noticeably tired, and the mud by the banks was now slowing him down. He was no longer sending spells at me, but was now concentrating on dodging the ones I sent at him.

We continued in this fashion for some time,**6** until finally the man met his death by tree. Great sycamores loomed above the river, their thickset and bushy branches whispering silently in the slight breeze. Whereas they had given the man an advantage beforehand by shielding him from my penetrating gaze, the fickle trees now switched to _my_ side.

My attacker, the one who had weaved his way through almost the whole of Alexandria with a formidable djinni on his heels, who had thus far dodged all of my spells, who had shot down Penrenutet with a single spell, tripped over a tree trunk.

I heard him grunt as his body hit the ground, his fall cushioned by the long weeds that sprouted from the rich earth. I flew across to investigate. It did not look so good—for him. He was sprawled across two large trunks, attempting to hoist himself up with his arms. One of his legs dragged uselessly behind.**7**

As I raised my hand to deliver the fatal blow, it occurred to me that it would be beneficial to check out the assassin. For the whole time, he had retained his human form; I wondered why, as he could have escaped faster by air. I flitted through the first few planes: human. As I reached the seventh plane, however, my eyes widened in shock.

_Human. Still human._

That meant—

This couldn't be—

My attacker then turned around, looked me in the eye, and I could swear there was a sliver of triumph in those cat-like orbs.

I realized what was going on even before it happened.

The trees rustled, and from all around me, foliots and imps rose from the sycamore's branches. Like a deathly chorus, they shouted/squealed commands simultaneously. For the last time, I was enveloped in the light of Detonations and Infernos of my final battle. And this time, I could only watch.

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The spells met at a point in midair, forming an explosion that lit up the darkness like day and shook the night like a thousand thunderclaps.

In the midst of it all, a small tadpole fell through the air unnoticed and dropped into the buffeting currents of the river.

_Plop._

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At the crack of dawn, a small, wet, bedraggled cat dragged itself into the palace gardens, up the steps, and into its master's room. As I expected, Ptolemy was sitting up in bed, perusing a scroll by candlelight.

"Rekhyt," he said, laying down the scroll and greeting me with such relief that I immediately suspected reading hadn't been one of his main focuses for the past few hours.

Feeling rather pitiful, I sat myself down on the floor in front of him and recounted what had happened. Ptolemy did not interrupt, as was custom, but listened with knitted brows and a forehead creased way beyond his years. When I'd finished, he nodded his head, and stared ponderously out the open window, chin resting on hands.

"So you were ambushed," he declared again. I nodded. "And you didn't manage to see the attacker's face at all?"

"No, but he was a small bloke. Quite swift and nimble," I admitted begrudgingly.

"I see. Perhaps this is another one of my cousin's conspiracies."

"What do you mean, _'perhaps'_?! It was _he_ who promised to meet you at the Black Market! Good thing you were cautious, or else—" I broke off rapidly, for I had just seen something that made me swell in anger. The cat's fur bristled. _"You!"_

The small gray moth that had alighted in front of me fluttered up again in alarm.

"Not so cocky now, eh?! Why, if you hadn't—"

"Now, now, Rekhyt. No need to get nasty. Penrenutet is simply inexperienced, that is all." Ptolemy's words restrained me, but I still glared daggers at the moth, which now clung to the ceiling, trembling.

"Inexperienced! He is _incompetent_! Completely unsuitable for the job!"

"Which is why I am sending him back to the Other Place."

The cat blinked its yellow eyes as the slight Egyptian boy spoke the Words of Dismissal.

Ptolemy then turned to me, black eyes shining with concern that touched me. "You're injured too."

"Yes," I admitted, "but not gravely." I put on a bold face.

"Look at you. I'll have to Dismiss you too."

"What—no!" I spluttered; "Let's face it! You _need_ me, what with your dear ol' cousin and his conspirators out there. You'll wake up every day and think: 'Hmm, I wonder what other deathly traps await me out there!'"

"And let's face it: if I keep you for any longer you'll soon be locked in life-or-death battles with _imps_. You'll wake up every day with your essence dripping away, and soon you'll need _me_ to take care of _you_."

"Believe me, there's nothing more that I would love than going for a quick kip in the Other Place. But—oh, no! Spot's been filled by precious little Penrenutet." I would not let him win this one. How was I to get a proper vacation in the Other Place when I would constantly be worrying about whether or not Ptolemy was alive?

The corners of Ptolemy's mouth lifted in a grim little smile that I'd learned to be wary of. This was the kind of smile that told you: _I've won._ "Rekhyt, you are above all my treasured friend, but let's not forget that you are bound to do what I tell you to. You've no choice in this matter. I'll call you when I think I'm ready."

He spoke the Words of Dismissal, and bid me farewell. "Don't worry, Bartimaeus. I've Affa, Necho, and Methys here to protect me."

But the bit that rankled me was this:

"Besides, I've already attained other help." The mysterious smile left me wondering what Ptolemy had planned for the period of my absence.

********************

1 One of the greatest works of art, if I may say so myself, but for the nose. Shoddy work by _some_ djinni … can't remember who …

2 Of course, not my _only_ feats, but listing all of them would have taken far too long, and, given our circumstances, far too uncomfortable. Even exceptional djinn like me can only last so long in the air until they get tired.

3 Now that I think of it, I did feel warm wet splotches landing on me. I think it's one of those scenes where you're falling so fast that the drool just—never mind, forget it.

4 He was indeed, lying comfortably in the bushes like a baby in a cradle.

5 Typical of them, really. Assassins in those days were always dressed in black, tight-fitting robes and scarves that covered half their faces—such was the case for this one.

6 I hope I don't sound bored here; this is actually my favorite battle tactic—being the chaser. It puts you in such a powerful position, you know? And besides, it's usually the other way around.

7 You had to say, his perseverance was admirable, his efforts commendable, albeit fruitless.


End file.
